by Cheryl Holt
He took a few last thrusts, then collapsed onto her. He remained there, until he remembered he must be crushing her, so he rolled onto his side. She rolled too, so they were nose to nose.
Thankfully, she was smiling, looking none the worse for wear.
“How did you like it, Miss Carter?” he asked.
“I’m not a virgin anymore, am I?”
“No, you’re not.”
“I didn’t need that old chastity anyway.”
The tears that had threatened earlier overflowed and dripped down her cheeks. He was flabbergasted, but stricken too.
“You can’t cry!” he said. “Don’t you dare be sad!”
“I’m not sad, you dunce. I’m happy.”
“You’re crying because you’re happy?”
“Yes.”
He frowned. “I don’t understand women.”
“Men aren’t supposed to.”
He shifted onto his back and draped her over his chest. It was so quiet he could hear his heart beating. They dawdled, lost in thought, and he couldn’t imagine what she was thinking. It was likely nothing close to what he was thinking.
He was aghast, but thrilled too. He shouldn’t have forged ahead, but he never questioned his actions. He’d told her he wouldn’t regret their conduct, and he didn’t.
After a bit, she said, “Could I be with child?”
“It never happens from just one time.”
He had no idea why he’d spew such an outrageous lie, and she was no fool.
“Are you sure about that?” she asked. “I presumed it could occur quite easily. There are certainly enough disgraced maidens in the neighborhood who’ve been rushed to the altar.”
“I should have said it rarely happens from one time.”
“If I’m unlucky, will you marry me?”
“Of course.” It was another lie.
On the spur of the moment, he couldn’t deduce how he’d respond, but he couldn’t envision himself wed to a Carter. Despite how much he liked her, it was so far beyond the realm of possibilities that he couldn’t begin to fathom it.
She sighed with what sounded like contentment, then she said, “What now?”
“Now we relax for awhile, then we’ll try it again—if you’re not too sore.”
She grinned. “I’m not sore.”
He settled her down so she was snuggled tight. The excitement was winding down, and lethargy swept over him. Without meaning too, his breathing slowed, and he fell into a deep, unusual slumber.
He never slept. Ever. From the minute his father had been imprisoned, his life had been in such a state of upheaval that he’d never been able to rest. Then, after he’d joined Sir Sidney, he’d been the lead scout and charged with noticing what others hadn’t noticed. An added dose of insomnia had been stirred into the mix by his witnessing Sir Sidney’s murder. How could a fellow sleep after all of that?
But with her in his arms, he dozed off, and he didn’t move a muscle. When he opened his eyes, it was morning. She was gone, and he was alone.
She’d slid away in the night, dressed, and snuck to Carter Crossing—in the dark and by herself. He wondered how she viewed their antics and how they’d interact when they bumped into each other again.
Would it be uncomfortable or sweet? Probably a little of both, but he didn’t reflect on it for long.
He’d ruined Rebecca Carter, and…?
He wasn’t sorry.
He shook his head—with amazement and disgust—and rose to face the day.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
“It’s about time you hauled your ass out of bed.”
Lucas Shawcross glared at his brother who’d just staggered into the Oakley dining room. Lucas was seated at the table, dressed for traveling, and he’d been impatiently waiting for Raven to saunter in so he could say goodbye.
Raven had brought some servants from London, so the residence was more habitable. They’d gotten things squared away to the point where a breakfast buffet was laid out on the sideboard.
Lucas had initially thought it was fine if Raven restored the mansion, but after significant reflection, his opinion was that it shouldn’t be restored. It was a decrepit, sorry building, and ghosts walked in the halls. He had no desire to linger and didn’t comprehend or share Raven’s fascination.
“What are you doing up at the crack of eleven?” Raven asked as he filled a plate and sat down.
Lucas countered with, “Why are you lurching down at the crack of eleven? Aren’t you the kind of fellow who likes to leap up when the sun is rising?”
“I slept in for once. It’s not a crime.”
Lucas scoffed with disgust. As he’d sneaked in very late, having played cards at Carter Crossing, he’d been stunned to see Rebecca Carter sneaking out. She hadn’t seen him though, and Lucas didn’t have to be a genius to figure out why she’d been upstairs.
“I’m leaving for London,” he announced.
“Why?”
“I’ve spent every minute here that I ever intend to spend. I hate the country, and I’m going home.”
Raven shrugged. “So go. I’m not stopping you.”
His brother voiced the remark casually, as if he couldn’t care less what Lucas chose, but his expression was steely and irked, his exasperation impossible to ignore.
Raven had always been able to flash a glower and make Lucas realize he was a great trial. His brother’s annoyance had Lucas eager to explain his decision. Not that it would do any good. There was no convincing Raven on any topic.
“You have the situation well in hand,” he said. “The company is yours, and Beatrice is vanquished. You’ve tipped Clayton off his rocker.”
“How?”
“Last night, he was shouting, throwing things, and bragging about how he would sue you into the next century. He was so drunk that he pissed himself, and the footmen had to carry him off.”
“I wish I’d been there to observe it.”
“He’s declared the party over, and the guests agreed it was for the best. People can hardly abide him, and he put on such a deplorable show that they’re all revolted by him. When he’s in town again, he’ll discover he has no friends remaining.”
“He never had any in the first place.”
“You don’t need me to help you finish him off. You have a team of hired thugs coming to assist with the eviction. There’s no reason for me to stay and watch.”
“It would have been nice to have you guarding my back.”
“From who? Beatrice? If you can’t deal with her on your own, I don’t know what to tell you.”
Raven studied him, his fierce gaze digging deep, his ire so blatant that Lucas squirmed in his seat as if he were at school and about to be whipped by the headmaster.
“You’re a mystery to me, little brother,” Raven eventually said.
“No, I’m not. You understand me better than anyone.”
“In most ways, I’ve figured you out, but in other ways, I’m completely clueless. Why, for example, would you be so blasé about how this ends?”
“I’ve never brimmed with your animosity. I was so young when Charles Carter bankrupted us. I don’t really remember it, and I don’t really remember Father. Or Mother for that matter. After we three children were separated, I saw Lydia precisely two times. If you asked me to describe her features, I couldn’t.”
“Can’t you take my word for it that you should still be very, very angry? Think if we’d been raised like normal boys. Think of all we lost because of Charles Carter.”
“What would that have been?” Lucas inquired. “Mother would probably have sent me to a seminary to become a minister. I’d have wound up as a preacher or maybe a bank clerk. Can you seriously picture me as an ordinary dolt? In some respects, Charles Carter did me a huge favor. He saved me from a life of tedium.”
“No, he pushed you into a life of vice and criminality.”
“I likely would
have sought this path anyway. I doubt Mr. Carter had much of an effect on how I turned out.”
“If you’re not bothered by Father and Mother being destroyed, can you at least exhibit a smidgen of sorrow over Lydia? We weren’t there to protect her from Clayton. Doesn’t it make you want to lash out at somebody?”
“Lots of girls in my world are ruined.”
The statement sounded terribly flippant, and it enraged his brother. Raven muttered, “Get the hell out of here. I don’t need you hovering. You simply suck my attention away from where it should be.”
“That comment came out wrong,” Lucas claimed.
“No, it didn’t. I heard you loud and clear. Lydia was just one more seduced maiden in a long line of them, and I’m just her brother. If she was killed by a roué, why should it concern me?”
“I only meant that her conclusion doesn’t surprise me, and it shouldn’t surprise you either. She was all alone. How could we have expected nothing horrid would occur?”
“Shut up, Lucas—before I pound you into the ground!”
Lucas’s mind raced as he tried to deduce how to smooth over their paltry quarrel. He always hated to upset Raven, yet he always managed to upset him.
His brother blustered through life, and Lucas floated through it. His brother reached out and seized what he craved, and Lucas quietly stole it. His brother fought and won every battle, but Lucas furtively avenged himself when no one was looking.
He adored his brother. He worshipped his brother, but they never saw eye to eye and never would.
“What’s your plan for the rest of the week?” he asked, anxious to depart on a calmer note.
“I’ll mostly dawdle at Oakley to open up more of the house. In three days, I’ll stroll into Carter Crossing with my thugs—as you call them—and I’ll move Beatrice’s possessions out onto the road. I’m sure she’ll be in complete denial, and she won’t have taken a single step to prepare.”
“She’ll be tossed out—as Mother was tossed out.”
“Yes,” Raven said, “but her experience won’t be quite as dire. When it happened to Mother, she had three little children gripping her skirt. Beatrice’s children are grown, so she doesn’t have to fret over what will become of them. She won’t have to die of a broken heart.”
“I’m certain you won’t believe me, but I’ll be glad to picture the event—even though I’ll be picturing it from my London bachelor’s apartment.”
“Heaven forbid that you stay and pitch in.”
They’d already plowed this field, and he wouldn’t plow it again. Instead, he asked, “What about Miss Rebecca?”
“What about her?” Raven was suddenly incredibly busy slathering jam on a muffin.
“What are your plans for her? Will you save her as you drive Beatrice to her doom?”
Raven scowled, as if it was the strangest question ever voiced. “She’s a Carter. Why would I save her?”
“I saw her sneaking out last night.”
Raven’s knife halted in mid-air. “Really?”
“I don’t suppose she was washing your dishes or doing your laundry.”
“No, she definitely wasn’t here for that.”
“So you seduced her, and it was part of your scheme to destroy her cousins?”
“Pretty much.”
Raven glanced away, giving Lucas the distinct impression that he had heightened feelings for the gorgeous, sweet-tempered blond woman.
“Isn’t this precisely how Clayton treated Lydia?” Lucas asked. “If you ruin her and walk away, how does that make you any better than him? Doesn’t that make you exactly the same?”
A muscle ticked in Raven’s cheek. “Don’t lecture me. You have no moral compass that would lead you to an honorable remark, and I suggest you butt the hell out.”
“When your men begin evicting Beatrice Carter, Miss Rebecca will probably rush to you for assistance. If she begs you to help her, will you? Or will you simply lock the door, pull the drapes, and pretend she isn’t knocking?”
Raven glowered at him forever, and he was so stoic and composed. It was always difficult to guess what he was thinking. Ultimately, he nodded to the door.
“Why don’t you head out? It will be a hectic day, and as I finish this, I need to spend some quiet minutes, calculating how long it will take me to forgive you for running off like a coward.”
Lucas bristled. “I’m not a coward.”
“It seems like it to me. Or is it merely that our family’s tragedy never truly mattered to you? You can be such a violent fellow, but it’s usually over petty issues: women, money, dice. Yet in our past, the very worst thing happened that could ever happen to a pair of little boys, and all you can ponder is your next card game and how much you might win.”
“Life is a game, Brother,” Lucas facetiously said, “and if you would remember that, you’d be a lot happier.”
“I’ve found happiness to be highly over-rated.”
They stared, comments swirling, but Lucas had had all the bickering he could abide. He threw down his napkin and strolled out.
“Be careful,” he cautioned as he went by his brother. “Watch your back.”
“Yes, I’ll be watching my back. It’s not as if I’ll have an ally present to do it for me.”
“I’m not joking,” Lucas fumed. “You deem Beatrice and Clayton to be fools, but you have them cornered and desperate, and they have nothing left to lose. That sort of person can be very dangerous.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.”
Raven started eating again, ignoring Lucas, and Lucas frowned and continued on. His carriage was harnessed and waiting in the driveway. He’d only delayed because he’d thought he’d be courteous and tell Raven he was leaving. Why had he bothered?
He and Raven were two very different people. Raven never understood Lucas’s choices, and Lucas constantly tried to explain himself—to no avail.
He climbed in and relaxed on the seat, and with the crack of the whip, the horses pulled the vehicle away. He told himself not to peer back at the aging, decrepit house, but he couldn’t forget Raven’s insistence that they’d come there as boys with their parents—before their lives had been wrecked.
Unable to resist, he peeked out, and he suffered a clear memory of his mother—he was very small—lifting him onto her hip and carrying him inside. She was young and beautiful and smiling. He sat very still, wondering if it was a genuine vision or if his imagination had conjured it.
Suddenly, a hint of her perfume filled the carriage, and he suffered another clear memory: that she’d smelled like the rosewater she’d bathed in.
He sighed with pleasure. Perhaps his mother’s ghost had flitted in to say hello so he’d recollect that his brief history with her had been precious.
They reached the end of the lane and turned onto the main road. They hadn’t journeyed very far and had just passed the entrance to Carter Crossing when his driver yanked on the reins and called to the horses to halt.
Lucas leaned out the window and asked, “What’s wrong? Why have we stopped?”
“There’s a girl blocking us, Mr. Shawcross.”
“What are you talking about?”
Lucas opened the door and jumped down, and there was Millicent Carter standing in the way, her feet braced, a packed portmanteau at her feet.
She marched over to him, clutched the lapels of his coat, and shook him.
“You promised to take me with you,” she said.
“I didn’t specifically agree, and if you thought I had, I was lying.”
“You can’t abandon me! You absolutely can’t! It’s always been horrid here, but Clayton and my mother have gone totally insane—thanks to your brother. Can you picture what it will be like from now on?” She stamped her foot quite vehemently. “I’m sorry, but I can’t allow you to leave me behind!”
He stared down at her, a myriad of bad choices arising, and it occurred to him that he cou
ld pitch in and give Raven some of the vengeance he craved. He could convey Millicent Carter to London and corrupt her in a very wicked fashion.
Why not?
Clayton had ruined Lydia, and Lucas was much more despicable than Clayton had ever dreamed of being. Tit for tat. It’s what Raven kept clamoring about with regard to the Carter family. Tit for tat.
That conclusion certainly applied to Millicent too. Didn’t it?
“I guess I can take you,” he ultimately said, “but don’t you dare whine about your fate after we arrive.”
“Why would I whine about it? You’re rescuing me, and I’ll always be grateful.”
“I doubt that,” he muttered. “I doubt it very, very much.”
He nodded to an outrider to grab her portmanteau, and as Lucas spun back to the carriage, she’d already dashed by him, climbed in, and settled herself on the seat.
* * * *
Preston was maneuvering his gig toward Carter Crossing. A coach was approaching from the other direction, and he slowed down. It was fancy, with a driver and two liveried outriders hanging from the rear.
With Clayton Carter hosting his birthday party, Preston figured it might be a posh London guest heading home, and he prepared to wave in case it was a gentleman he’d met at the soirees.
The driver tipped his hat, and the horses rushed on by, so he only caught a quick glimpse of the passengers inside. He blanched with dismay.
It was Lucas Shawcross, and he was sure Millicent was snuggled next to him.
He warned himself not to read scandal into the discovery. She had accepted a ride with the older brother, and Beatrice had encouraged it. But Lucas Shawcross was on the road to London. Was there a reason Millicent would be traveling with him?
Preston couldn’t think of one.
His mood glum, his spirits flagging, he continued on to Carter Crossing. It wasn’t any of his business, was it? If her mother didn’t keep track of her, was it Preston’s place to mention the issue?
He was facing the same dilemma with Miss Rebecca. If he spoke up, he’d get her in a great deal of trouble, but if he remained silent, it was possible she’d land herself in plenty of trouble all on her own.
